This is Your Fault, Benson
by Linwe-Amari
Summary: "Fredward Benson, I'm going to cut off your Lincoln Log and feed it to you at dinner tonight!" she screams at me.  ...Perfect.   Seddie.  One-shot.


This is Your Fault, Benson

She's screaming.

Sure, I've heard her scream before, but never in the context of excruciating pain. So, needless to say, I feel bad.

After all—it's kind of my fault.

"This is _your_ fault, now you carry me!" She'd shouted at me.

"What? Sam, you're heavy, I'm afraid that I'd drop you—"

"That's not what you said that night when—"

It had been at that point that I placed a firm hand over her mouth to muffle the rest of what was sure to be an incredibly embarrassing tid-bit of information. We were in a busy parking lot, for goodness' sake.

"Sam, this is not the time or the place!" I'd replied, frustrated.

But I relented.

I always did, always would.

I carried her as carefully as I could to the front door of the building and went to the front desk.

"How may I help you sir?" the female receptionist asked.

"You, bimbo, whadaya think? Is it not obvious how you can help us?"

The receptionist seemed shocked, and with Sam in the state she was in, I was not about to reprimand her for her rudeness, mostly because I didn't want my ear bitten off.

Literally. I still needed it for hearing and stuff. It was not out of the realm of possibilities when Sam was involved. She was capable of anything.

"Of course, I will get you some help right away," the receptionist replied almost frantically, trying to soothe Sam's anger. Yeah, nice try, right? "We'll make you comfortable."

Unfortunately, getting Sam completely comfortable was not going to be an easy task. Nor would it be entirely possible. In fact it was mostly _im_possible.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Benson, but we cannot administer the medication. You arrived too late for that."

"What, do you think that's _funny_? Ha, ha. Okay, now give me the damn meds—AH!" Sam was cut off, presumably by the pain that had been periodically overwhelming her for the last few hours.

"I apologize, Mrs. Benson, but it is just not possible at this point in time."

Sam glared at the doctor, then craned her neck around to glare at me. Oh, crap.

"This is all your fault, Ben-SON!" she screamed again.

It kind of is.

Because I'd wanted to take her out to the country where there weren't any city lights for a little while. A soothing place. To relax. Well, it had not exactly worked out as planned. One moment, we were teasing each other, then we began to argue about lamb chops for some unknown reason. Somehow we'd gotten ourselves lost while we were conversing. Then the real arguing began. She yelled at me about how it was my fault that, since we got lost, she was going to miss MMA. Really? I was taking her out to be alone for a little while, trying to be romantic, and all she wanted to do was watch people fight each other on television. So, yeah, that ticked me off just a little bit.

So, when I told her to calm down, that there would be other occurrences of pointless, poorly-rehearsed ballet dancing on the television, she did not take it well.

I then proceeded to regret it.

Because she was yelling.

The regret felt a lot like worry.

"Sam, please, calm down. It's not healthy for any of us for you to be so stressed out. How about this," I went on as I pulled my phone out of the cup holder, "I'll call Carly and tell her to record it for you, okay?"

"Oh, _now _you're worried about my well-being, huh? What about my television? I need that for my health too! And I will _never _forget that insulting comparison of Mixed Martial _Arts_ to those prissy _tutus_."

"Sam, you're insane."

"Oh, I am? Well lemme tell you this, _Ben_son," she said my surname in that way that let me know she was could not be more displeased with me. Yeah, it made me afraid for my life.

…I sort of liked it.

And then before she could tell me, she stopped. And I knew something was wrong.

I quickly glanced over at her and her mouth made the shape of the perfect 'O.'

I knew what was happening right away.

I _knew_ all of that stress was not healthy.

So first, we had to get ourselves un-lost. Then we had to drive over to the building, and by that time, it was too late to safely administer the medication. She would have to go without.

And never in my life have I been more afraid for my own life.

Nor have I ever been more afraid for her.

Never have I heard her scream this way.

It just was not very Sam-like.

And, lastly, never have I been surer that my hand was broken.

"FREDWARD BENSON, I'M GOING TO CUT OFF YOUR LINCONL LOG AND FEED IT TO YOU AT DINNER TONIGHT!" she screams at me.

Perfect.

"Mr. Benson, put your head between your legs and breathe deeply." I must have a squeamish look on my face. Yeah, well, if his wife had just told him that she was going to cut off his…_you know_…he would feel sick too.

"I'm fine."

Of course Sam seizes the chance to make fun of me. Even in this situation. I should expect no less.

"Benson, you no-good, sidewalk-licking pansy! How in God's name did you ever get me say yes to _you_?"

"You asked _me_."

It was true. It happened one night while we were all being subjected to yet another of her horrid MMA sessions. Carly had gotten up to get us all drinks and Sam brought it up during a commercial break.

"Hey, dork. I think we should get married."

I'm pretty sure I did this weird spasm think in the shock of the situation. I mean, really? She couldn't have been more romantic than _that_?

I was positive that she knew about the ring that had, at the time, been sitting in my front left pocket for an entire week prior, and was tired of waiting for me to "man up."

"Um, okay."

"So. Kneel," she'd ordered. I did so, hoping to God that Carly wouldn't come in right then. That would have been just perfect. Proposing to Sam in the middle of her living room during an MMA commercial. Carly would never forgive me.

She still hasn't.

But for some reason, I kind of realized that Sam wouldn't have had it any other way.

"Well, _ask_." Sam the Sergeant. I responded by shaking my head and smiling up at her as I pulled the little box out of my pocket, opening it so that she could see the ring. She visibly gulped. I realized then that she was nervous. I'd seen her experience all types of emotions before, but never this one. Nervousness? …Weird.

And I asked.

Her response?

"Yeah, I guess I could make it work. We'd have to fit the ceremony around MMA, but it could definitely work." Every word that she uttered made her smirk grow more prominent. She couldn't hide how much she loved to mess with me.

And right now it is no different. She would never miss a chance to rub me the wrong way.

Except she isn't smiling at the moment.

"ARGH! Benson, you will PAY!"

"I know," I reply, and she squeezes my hand harder. I don't know if it is in a twisted 'I love you' way or if it is truly a 'you will pay' gesture.

Yep. I am now positive that my hand is broken.

"You're almost there, Mrs. Benson. Just a few more pushes."

And the doctor does not disappoint. Just a few moments later and for the first time, I meet Maggie Alease Benson.

And she is beautiful. I cannot take my eyes off of her. The doctor cuts the umbilical cord and fluid is suctioned out of her little throat. She is cleaned up gently and wrapped up in a tiny pink blanket.

The nurse hands Maggie off to me as he delivers the placenta.

All I can do is look into her mesmerizing blue eyes.

_So much like her mother._

Finally, Sam is ready. She sits up and looks longingly at me. Although I am still looking at Maggie, I can feel her gaze. I finally look up at Sam and there is no longer the promise of a monumental beating in her eyes. And even though I know that she longs to hold Maggie, I can tell that she loves watching me with her.

Nevertheless, I gently pass Maggie over. And to finally see her in her mother's arms is glorious. In fact, it is the most glorious things that I have ever seen in my entire life. I place a hand behind Sam's neck and bend down to kiss her chastely as I bask in their glory.

As I stand straight again, Sam smiles up at me, obviously drunk on that new baby feeling. Yeah, turns out, not only do new babies have a delightful smell (in a biological sort of way) but they incur a feeling of drunkenness.

But not the bad drunkenness.

"Okay, so maybe it wasn't entirely your fault, Benson," she says before she turns to stare down adoringly at the baby girl in her arms. She has never been more beautiful to me.

The both of them stole my heart.

And it is then that I know that the first thing I have to buy Maggie before she goes off to college is a shot gun.

I voice this out loud and Sam laughs.

"I'll drink to that," she replies.

I roll my eyes with a grin.

_Yo Ho._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thank you all for reading! I appreciate every single one of you! I would love it if you could possibly find the time to review, even if it's just one word, including, but not limited to, 'good,' 'bad,' 'sucked,' 'fish.' I don't know if fish would be a good comment or not. I guess it depends on whether or not you like fish! xD Anyhoo, I consider faves, alerts, and reviews all hugs from y'all and appreciate them all! Thanks again, and God speed in all of your future endeavors!


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